Each thing I do I rush through so I can do something else. In such a way do the days pass— a blend of stock car racing and the never ending building of a gothic cathedral. Through the windows of my speeding car, I see all that I love falling away: books unread, jokes untold, […]
There are gaps in my divine pursuit where by the labours of daily living I am prevented of my souls most essential relief, and the bitterest days known are come. All the during, supplanted some other state, escaped through the woods, seeking Babylon.